Broken
by Blue741776
Summary: Born with a twisted paw, she inevitably had to deal with difficulties. But was it all that bad? Did she have it worse then others? No. She may have been broken, but she loved it.


**Hello people! This is a One-Shot for the forum: SecretClan. Challenge: Broken. I tried to take a different angle on the idea than usual, and I also tried a different style of writing it as well. More of a story-telling element. I don't know how it turned out, so please tell me at the end!**

 **Main Characters:**

 **Smokefoot- Dark gray she-cat with yellow eyes and twisted paw**

 **Flosslight- Silver-white she-cat with dark brown eyes**

 **Broken**

 _Splash!_ The quick patter of paws mingled with the down-pouring rush of water from the sky. The pace of the paws, splashing in the mud puddles and rain-soaked floor was disrupted by an odd, disjointed pace. It was faster and more uneven than the others.

Let us name this cat that disrupted the hurried rhythm of the others. Her name is Smokefoot, a fairly young warrior with a dark gray coat so sleek that others were envious of the glowing sheen. Her yellow eyes glowed bright and there was a noble position in which she held her head, demanding respect and admiration.

And let it not be said that she had done nothing to earn it. For she had done quite a bit in the way of self-achievement. For, the disrupted pace was caused by her front, right paw. She'd been born with the twisted paw, it was turned inward and was a dangerous and painful tripping hazard in the simplicity of walking.

So that resolves the mystery of the uneven rhythm. Smokefoot, in the lead of this hunting patrol with the rain pouring down in a common green-leaf evening shower, had her jaws gripped tightly against a rabbit she'd been lucky enough to catch.

We shall now endeavor to clear some things up about the setting of this little story. The territory the story occupies is WindClan, back before the days of the Great Journey to the lake. Yes, on those windy moors that rise above the forest tree-tops of Fourtrees with nothing but the waving grass to offer shelter, not even as many hills as were found by the lake, nor tunnels as wide.

Not that Smokefoot would complain, like all WindClan cats she was born with a natural love of the wild elements that she so openly allowed to affect her. In her younger days, it had stirred her soul and encouraged her to strive to be the best warrior she could be, despite her misshaped paw.

The rain was merely the drink of the earth, and Smokefoot knew she was just caught in-between the administration and the reception of the life-giving liquid. She imagined she could hear the thankful sigh of the earth as it wallowed in its wetness.

It had been a long, hot season and this rain shower more likely than not was the call of the change of seasons. In her mind, Smokefoot imagined herself once again on the brink of changing seasons, picturing herself grandly standing at the edge of a green-laden land and an invisible line that divided it from the brilliant colors of fall that gorgeously dressed the forest in the upcoming season.

"It looks like the rain storm is clearing up," the comment brought Smokefoot's attention back to the here and now.

"It does," she answered the speaker, lifting her eyes to see the breaking up gray clouds, flushes of pink and orange shining through from the bashful dusk.

"There's nothing better then sleeping out at night after a fresh rain-shower," one of the members of the patrol, a friend of hers named Goldstrike, sighed in contentment, his blue eyes watching the sky happily.

Smokefoot and the others agreed with muffled mews around their catches. Now they were ducking through the small gorse entrance, and heading down the trail into the hollowed camp grounds with the open roof.

"Smokefoot! Nice catch!" the becoming she-cat purred with pleasure as the deputy of the Clan praised her in front of every cat. Oh, how nice it was to be doted on with praises she hardly earned! She always owed it to the fact that she'd overcome her troublesome paw and impressed every cat with her great skill.

She and the rest of the patrol dropped their catch on the fresh-kill pile before heading their separate directions. Smokefoot stretched and yawned. Her fur was drying quickly in the cool breeze as the rain turned to a dribble, then a sprinkle, before stopping all completely.

 _What a perfect end to a perfect day._ The contentment level for Smokefoot and her Clan-mates was at a maximum and she had little to worry about as she grabbed a rabbit and looked around for a cat to share it with.

She frowned slightly, most cats were already eating or sharing tongues, their meal finished. _There..._ She found one cat that was sitting alone, an unpleasant look on her face and her dark brown eyes holding her suspicious characteristic.

 _Flosslight..._ The she-cat was one that Smokefoot had grown up with, since kit-hood actually, but there was a reason the silver-white cat had no friends. Every cat firmly believed she was a loner with the unfortunate circumstance of being born in a Clan. Smokefoot personally believed that unproven rumor wholeheartedly.

 _But its not like she's evil or anything... I suppose I can stand to spend a little bit of time with her._ Smokefoot, however, could not muster much optimism at this chance to spend time with the resident loner. She had another reason to dislike the reserved she-cat than most, Flosslight was the only cat that had never shown any admiration for her overcoming her twisted paw.

As she dragged the rabbit toward the staring she-cat, all the thoughts about how petty Flosslight must be to be jealous of her strength resurfaced. Memories of the silver-white apprentice scowling at her darkly while their mentors praised Smokepaw on her successful catch almost made Smokefoot suck it up and spend one evening alone.

But that didn't seem any fun and she reminded herself that she was too good to be soured by Flosslight's meanness. "Hey, Flosslight, do you want to share?" she mumbled out the words as she finally came to a stop before the brown-eyed she-cat.

A part of her wished that Flosslight would refuse, and then she could go talk to her friends about how ungrateful Flosslight had been acting lately. Gossiping and starting rumors were things Smokefoot had unintentionally mastered. In fact, it seemed every cat but Smokefoot knew about her slight abrasion to privacy.

"Fine," Flosslight spoke with an air of cool indifference, but a look in her eye said that she was analyzing everything she saw.

"Great!" the forced gratefulness in Smokefoot's mew gradually grew more evident as Flosslight just responded with a delayed nod.

They settled down in uncomfortable silence and started sharing the rabbit. _Maybe it would have been better to just eat alone... Or maybe go join the elders._ By now the sun had disappeared from the sky and last stains of red and orange were fading closer to the western horizon as deep indigo hues speckled with flashes of light replaced the color of the sky.

"The air is really fresh," Smokefoot commented as the silent meal came to a close. She drew in a deep breath, closing her eyes and relishing the coolness the air held. She pictured herself was on a tall peak above every other cat with just the clear air around her and no sounds but the wind blowing around her.

"Its because it just rained," Flosslight answered the comment flatly, drawing Smokefoot out of her fanciful illusions.

"Right..." They lapsed into silence, but neither seemed willing to be the first to leave. A battle of stubbornness ensued between the glorified common-hero and the rough-edged outcast.

Smokefoot gave in after about forty-five seconds and sighed in exaggeration. "Why do you hate me?" she asked pitifully, looking up with wide yellow eyes.

"I don't hate you," Flosslight's dark brown eyes were angled down and void of sympathy or even a smidgen of respect.

"Then why do you look at me like that?" Smokefoot whined, laying down on her belly and resting her head on her outstretched leg, the one with the twisted paw.

"Because I judge you on how you act, and your actions deserve this," Flosslight flicked her tail, a rare inclination to interest, as if she had been unaware Smokefoot was capable of this level of communication.

"How so? I always thought I did quite well to become a capable warrior with this-" here Smokefoot angled at her twisted paw. "-And I have become one of the fastest cats in WindClan, as well as one of our best hunters, and my fighting skills aren't shabby either," Smokefoot stated. She didn't really care why Flosslight didn't like her, she just felt the need to defend herself to this shifty-eyed cat.

"What is your point?" Flosslight sighed, shifting her paws under her to lie down comfortably. Her brown eyes traced the sky wistfully and for a moment she looked... lonely.

"Uh... well, that it was more difficult for me to achieve these skills than it is for most cats," Smokefoot mewed, frowning slightly. She had thought it was quite obvious what her point was!

"Do you think you're the only cat that has to overcome trials in life?" the melancholy mew was the answer and it had a strange sobering effect on Smokefoot's thoughts.

"I suppose that's true... But this is something that I had to overcome for the simplest of things most cats can do naturally," Smokefoot explained.

Flosslight inclined her head in a nod. "That is true, but the problem is only physical, there are many more problems cats have that go deeper than the surface. Those are much harder to fix."

"Like what?" Smokefoot leaned closer, curiosity tingled through her as the cat in front of her played with the depths of other cat's consciences.

"Like... look at Rosebriar," Flosslight nodded at the red spotted brown she-cat.

"What about her? She's one of the best fighter's in the Clan!" Smokefoot exclaimed.

"Look closer, not just at what she lets us see, but what she hides. She has amnesia. Most of the Clan doesn't know this, but she sometimes forgets who and where she is and spends many nights afraid and alone," Flosslight's tone was the deepest level of respect and sympathy now. "But she stays strong, because she loves the Clan so much."

"How do you know this?" Smokefoot whispered, watching Rosebriar with new eyes. Instead of seeing the strong, confident cat on the outside, she saw the shivering, frightened cat on the inside.

"Because I prefer to watch and listen rather than preaching my actions," the probing words did well to tear on Smokefoot's conscience.

"Who else is there? That has to deal with problems like this?" Smokefoot asked.

"Almost every cat in the Clan deals with things like this to some degree. Most of them aren't so severe, but plenty of them make the cats that have them worthy of respect for overcoming them. And you aren't alone in having to overcome physical challenges either," Flosslight mewed, now nodding at the apprentice, Beaverpaw.

"See him? You probably don't know this, but he is deaf in one ear," Flosslight mewed.

"What?! How did I not know this?" Smokefoot stared pityingly at the young brown tom.

"Don't look so sad, look at what he's doing," Flossligth prompted

So Smokefoot took in the whole scene, and realized Beaverpaw was laughing gaily, playing around with his friends around the apprentice's hollow.

"He still plays like any other cat his age. He doesn't seem any different, does he?" Flosslight was prompting again, her tone soft and gentle like a breeze rustling through a field of puffy dandelions.

"Yeah... is that why I don't know?" Smokefoot asked, wondering if she'd been missing things like this her whole life.

"Part of why, I imagine, but he didn't want any cat to know, he wanted to deal with it on his own. In secret," Flosslight added.

"So how do _you_ know then?" Smokefoot inquired.

"Last I checked, he was my apprentice."

"Oh, yeah," Smokefoot felt a little embarrassed that she hadn't remembered that.

"Nevermind, now do you understand why I respect these cats who deal with their problems in secret without letting on there's anything wrong with them, more then you, who, although did well in overcoming your problem, glorified it so much that you can't see any other cat helping themselves like you?" Flosslight's dark eyes bored into her and Smokefoot felt ashamed for a moment.

 _I thought I was so special, so important, because I had been broken, and I fixed myself. I had thought I was the only one in the Clan that could do that but... I was wrong. All these other cats, all my friends, who I boasted my accomplishments to, they all were doing the same thing as I... And yet, and yet... they smiled at me, they congratulated me, they let me feel special. I promise myself now, that I will try my best to help others feel special in their efforts to fix themselves, just as they did for me._

Gratefulness overwhelmed her as she thought about how generous her friends were. She stood up, looking at the now rising moon in the water-washed clear sky and feeling refreshed and humbled. "Thank you, Flosslight for the meal... And for opening my eyes," she smiled down at the Clan-loner. She no longer looked at the silver-white she-cat with disdain, but a respect and admiration for this cat who focused so much more on others than herself.

"It was my pleasure, though you gave me the meal, and it was nice talking to you as well, Smokefoot. If I may add, it would be a lie to say I am not impressed with your accomplishments, but it would also be a lie to say that I think they are the best in the Clans. Just remember, every cat is broken, in one way or another, just not all of them enjoy it so much as you."

 **...**

 **And that is that. I actually enjoyed writing this very much, it was nice to do something different.**

 **Please Review!**


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